survived better.
And she didn’t like having that moment of helplessness rubbed in her face. “I’m fine.” She had spent the first few weeks of physical therapy living in the spare bedroom in Sylvain’s apartment, the one Cade now shared with him, but even though Sylvain’s place was fairly large for Paris, it was still too small for Jaime to share with an anxious sister.
She had rented her own little place by the week, up toward the northern corner of the Marais, near Dominique Richard’s salon . She would have been welcome to use the luxurious place her father had bought in the Sixth, when Cade had declared her intention of remaining in Paris. But Jaime had spent her summers all through college doing internships with professors in the far reaches of the world, and she had spent the three years after she graduated entirely on her own in those far reaches, continents away from her family. She liked that. Being far away from the Coreys and anything they could want of her. Maybe not quite as far as usual right this second, but . . . she needed her own place, a place she could curl up in, without any chance that someone else would turn the key in the lock and pop in unexpectedly.
This apartment put her no more than a twenty-minute walk from Cade, but Cade got all hovering and anxious nevertheless. It drove Jaime nuts.
“It’s a little wilder up near République, isn’t it?” Cade asked. “You’re careful, aren’t you?”
Jaime gave her sister an ironic look, which was better than strangling her. For one thing, what Cade meant by “wilder” probably was just that the area north and east of République was considerably more working class and ethnically diverse than the Sixth, where Cade was. For another, Jaime was in the Marais, one of the most elite quarters in the city, even if she was only a couple of blocks from République. And finally, wilder than what ? Madagascar? Côte d’Ivoire? Papua New Guinea? Cameroon, perhaps? Cade had no real clue what Jaime had been doing, did she?
Cade flushed a little under Jaime’s look and set her jaw stubbornly. “I know it’s a romantic city, but it’s a city, nevertheless. Just make sure you pay attention. Don’t go wandering down empty streets in the middle of the night. Make sure no one’s within grabbing reach when you enter your code on the street late at night.” She shot an odd, sudden glance at Sylvain at that last and bit her lip. Sylvain, inexplicably, grinned.
Jaime ground her teeth and focused on Philippe, sitting across from her, beside Magalie, who was so fashionable and sure of herself she made Jaime feel very freckled. She also wore such high heels that she always looked taller than Jaime, which was unfair, because Jaime was pretty sure she herself would be a couple inches taller if they ever got to meet on even footing. “So,” Jaime said brightly to Philippe, “I hear you are doing the, what do you call them, the pièces montées, for Cade’s wedding next month. I’m sure they’ll be stunning.”
Philippe nodded his tawny head absently, clearly not finding any doubt in that and not remembering he should pretend to be modest. “We’ve got the expo next week first, though.” He nodded at Sylvain.
Sylvain rolled his eyes. “If Richard doesn’t ruin it. I’m going to have the table right beside his again, I know it. We need a chocolatier whose last name starts with P.”
Philippe shrugged. “He won’t do anything that would damage his work. Just ignore him when he tries to start a fight.”
Jaime’s eyebrows went up. When he tried to start a fight? She remembered the moment when he’d looked ready to take on a whole mob. But—that was circumstantial, right? With her he had been so nice.
“I wouldn’t put it past him to do something to destroy someone else’s work,” Sylvain said broodingly. “Trip someone carrying a chocolate sculpture, for example.”
Philippe considered that, square chin on one hand. “He’s managed
And she didn’t like having that moment of helplessness rubbed in her face. “I’m fine.” She had spent the first few weeks of physical therapy living in the spare bedroom in Sylvain’s apartment, the one Cade now shared with him, but even though Sylvain’s place was fairly large for Paris, it was still too small for Jaime to share with an anxious sister.
She had rented her own little place by the week, up toward the northern corner of the Marais, near Dominique Richard’s salon . She would have been welcome to use the luxurious place her father had bought in the Sixth, when Cade had declared her intention of remaining in Paris. But Jaime had spent her summers all through college doing internships with professors in the far reaches of the world, and she had spent the three years after she graduated entirely on her own in those far reaches, continents away from her family. She liked that. Being far away from the Coreys and anything they could want of her. Maybe not quite as far as usual right this second, but . . . she needed her own place, a place she could curl up in, without any chance that someone else would turn the key in the lock and pop in unexpectedly.
This apartment put her no more than a twenty-minute walk from Cade, but Cade got all hovering and anxious nevertheless. It drove Jaime nuts.
“It’s a little wilder up near République, isn’t it?” Cade asked. “You’re careful, aren’t you?”
Jaime gave her sister an ironic look, which was better than strangling her. For one thing, what Cade meant by “wilder” probably was just that the area north and east of République was considerably more working class and ethnically diverse than the Sixth, where Cade was. For another, Jaime was in the Marais, one of the most elite quarters in the city, even if she was only a couple of blocks from République. And finally, wilder than what ? Madagascar? Côte d’Ivoire? Papua New Guinea? Cameroon, perhaps? Cade had no real clue what Jaime had been doing, did she?
Cade flushed a little under Jaime’s look and set her jaw stubbornly. “I know it’s a romantic city, but it’s a city, nevertheless. Just make sure you pay attention. Don’t go wandering down empty streets in the middle of the night. Make sure no one’s within grabbing reach when you enter your code on the street late at night.” She shot an odd, sudden glance at Sylvain at that last and bit her lip. Sylvain, inexplicably, grinned.
Jaime ground her teeth and focused on Philippe, sitting across from her, beside Magalie, who was so fashionable and sure of herself she made Jaime feel very freckled. She also wore such high heels that she always looked taller than Jaime, which was unfair, because Jaime was pretty sure she herself would be a couple inches taller if they ever got to meet on even footing. “So,” Jaime said brightly to Philippe, “I hear you are doing the, what do you call them, the pièces montées, for Cade’s wedding next month. I’m sure they’ll be stunning.”
Philippe nodded his tawny head absently, clearly not finding any doubt in that and not remembering he should pretend to be modest. “We’ve got the expo next week first, though.” He nodded at Sylvain.
Sylvain rolled his eyes. “If Richard doesn’t ruin it. I’m going to have the table right beside his again, I know it. We need a chocolatier whose last name starts with P.”
Philippe shrugged. “He won’t do anything that would damage his work. Just ignore him when he tries to start a fight.”
Jaime’s eyebrows went up. When he tried to start a fight? She remembered the moment when he’d looked ready to take on a whole mob. But—that was circumstantial, right? With her he had been so nice.
“I wouldn’t put it past him to do something to destroy someone else’s work,” Sylvain said broodingly. “Trip someone carrying a chocolate sculpture, for example.”
Philippe considered that, square chin on one hand. “He’s managed
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